


colorful actions

by hyperphonic



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: (no I'm not), F/M, I'm Sorry, look you guys i just couldn't get over the idea of them fucking in the cockpit of his TIE silencer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-18
Updated: 2018-02-18
Packaged: 2019-03-20 16:04:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13721172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hyperphonic/pseuds/hyperphonic
Summary: “Your turn,” she grins, and Ben swallows thickly.





	colorful actions

**Author's Note:**

> colorful actions is defined in the vernacular of aviation slang as "ignoring safe procedures while flying" which, though technically the ship is stationary, still felt appropriate.  
> disclaimer: all i own is one (1) sick ass "casual sex friday" coffee mug

The cockpit of Ben’s prototype TIE silencer is just barely big enough for the Supreme Leader-turned-First Order defector, let alone his frame plus one Rey of Jakku. Which is why said scavenger finds herself sitting happily astride his lap, fingers tangled in the thick, dark curls of his hair as they kiss. His lips are warm, slightly chapped, and every inch as perfect for kissing as she had suspected when their fingers had brushed upon Ahch-To. One (ungloved) hand is curled possessively around her right hip, and his other works steadily under the loose layers of her tunic, searching for the heat of her skin. 

Outside, the hangar is silent: Resistance ships powered down, and nothing but the occasional standby light of a BB unit to break the stillness. Inside the cockpit of the TIE unit, however, the air was thick with the moisture of their muffled breaths, and the soft, wet sounds of lips against skin. 

“Lean back.” Ben commands, the hand at her hip moving to splay against the skin above her lowest vertebrae. Rey obeys, and is rewarded with the careful removal of her tunic, and his lips hot against her throat. Her hands descend from his hair and find their way underneath the collar of his plain, white shirt, fingertips catching on the soft swells of muscle, and one angry ridge of scar tissue. Ben nips a mark into the spot just beneath her left clavicle, and Rey sighs her content, hips rolling once in search of friction. 

In battle, he is all broad swings and the fearsomely efficient movements of a man well versed in combat. Here, in these quiet moments that they steal away for themselves, he is softer; takes his time with the delicate skin of her breasts, presses his devotion into the soft spot of skin behind her ear. 

Between them the bond is alight, open and full, singing balance and unity in the small, rapidly fogging cockpit. Rey manages to get the thin white shirt off of Ben, and wastes no time in peppering his fair skin with marks of her own, always careful to soothe the sting with soft kisses and murmured praise. He groans, hot against her ear, and lets his palms fall to knead her ass. Pants, Rey realizes hazily, are profoundly overdue to be taken off, and she must let that sentiment echo across the bond, because in the next second Ben has his fingers set to the task of removing hers. 

“Kriff,” he groans, the second he has her fully naked on top of him (Rey thinks her heart is going to beat right out of her chest). Slowly, reverently, he reaches between them to sink one finger into her and gives a lopsided grin when Rey’s mouth falls open into a small “O”. Together they set an easy rhythm, Ben’s fingers pumping in and out to the roll of Rey’s hips. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she wonders if the entire TIE silencer rocks with the pace of their movement, but that thought is quickly chased from her head by the steadily building pressure in her abdomen. Ben sees it, and presses harder, pace quickening as she falls apart on his fingers, walls fluttering around him as he murmurs declarations of love against the skin of her chest. 

For a moment he just holds her, pressing kisses to her shoulders and the soft slope of her throat before Rey reaches for the tent in his pants.

“Your turn,” she grins, and Ben swallows thickly. 

The hiss that escapes through clenched teeth as Rey drags tightly fitted pants down his legs seems to fill the cockpit entirely, sending goosebumps running all the way up lean arms. Lips that had once hurled barbs (venomous snake) against the cool indifference of a durasteel mask (monster) now press softly against the bridge of his nose as she settles herself above him. Ben ghosts his hands down her sides, skimming over ribs slowly vanishing under muscle and fat, before curling against her hips.

There’s a moment of anticipation, where she stares down at him in wonder; takes in the mussed hair and the scar that she left across his countenance, a moment where her breath catches in her throat because he is hers. 

And then it is shattered as he thrusts his hips upwards and Rey completely and utterly fails to hold back a throaty moan. The pace he sets has her bracing herself against the back of his pilot’s chair, fingers digging into the cool patent leather just above his shoulders. Rey meets each thrust with one of her own, hips rolling easily as she dips her head to bury her nose in the damp hair at his temple. Ben’s fingers bite into the soft spot in front of her hipbones, and Rey cannot help the sharp smile that brushes across her lips at the thought of bruises blooming there in the morning. 

As Ben nears his climax, he uncoils one hand from around her hip and holds two fingers up to her lips, intent clear. Rey dutifully takes them into her mouth, and feels, rather than hears her lovers groan in response before he’s pulling them back and setting them to work against her clit. A few practiced swirls of his fingers later and Rey is coming undone on top of him a second time, heart nearly stopping as he follows suit, her name hot on his lips. 

They sit together for a few moments, skin to skin as their sweat cools and fog slowly starts to dissipate from the windows. Ben speaks first, nose in her hair and lips brushing against her temple, 

“We should get back to my bunk,” he mumbles, fingers lazily running the length of her spine. Rey nods and tightens her arms around his shoulders, not quite yet ready to move. His bed will be warm, neatly made with military precision, but even the promise of sheets that smell like Ben Solo isn’t enough to motivate her to stand. 

“Come on,” he urges, lips pulled up into a lopsided grin that makes Rey think of the sharp smell of rocket fuel and the air of a planet right before the sun clears the horizon. She stands, and he follows suit, shoulders bumping as they search for clothes scattered across the flight controls and weapons system. 

“Ready to go?” He asks once they’re both mostly clothed (Rey holds her standard issue flight wrappings in one hand, obstinately against putting them back on for the walk back to his bunk), and she doesn’t hesitate to nod, smile bright as their fingers lace together.

**Author's Note:**

> feel free to drop me prompts at my tumblr: _hyperphonic_


End file.
